


The One Where They Become Roommates

by coulbyangel



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Romantic Comedy, Roommates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-15
Updated: 2016-06-15
Packaged: 2018-07-15 08:11:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,102
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7214539
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/coulbyangel/pseuds/coulbyangel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is a story about a penthouse apartment, a kiss, and Arthur Pendragon having sex with a ton of girls in a very short amount of time.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The One Where They Become Roommates

If there is anything that Arthur Pendragon knows to be true, it’s that the only thing worse than having to share a room with your sister is having to share an apartment with your sister.  It was bad enough when he was seven and the girl with soft skin and sharp eyes came to live in his house, but he never expected to have to do it all over again sixteen years later.

 

To be fair, he had been the one that came up with the idea in the first place, and he was also the one that had pitched it to his father as being “the proposal of a lifetime”.  He wasn’t entirely sure what had inspired such ridiculous idea, although the seven shots of whiskey he had done the previous night might have had something to do with it.  At the time, he had been convinced that not having to go through the grueling search for another roommate rich enough to pay their share of the penthouse was worth living with a girl that had driven him insane for the past sixteen years.

 

To be fair, Morgana had jumped on the idea as excitedly as he had, not out of any particular affection for him, but rather because of the lack of financial stipulations that came with it.  With Arthur as her roommate, she wouldn’t have to worry about paying rent, unannounced drop-ins from Uther to “check up” on her, or limits on the amount of funds tunneled into her bottomless checking account.  All she would have to do was share a penthouse apartment in upstate New York with her brother, which wasn’t really too bad of a trade-off if you thought about it.

 

To be fair, they weren’t even really siblings, just two people around the same age that happened to live together.  Neither of them were really sure when they stopped correcting people, because even though they didn’t share blood, it was easier than having to explain the gory details behind their situation.  It wasn’t Morgana’s fault that her father had died in the Iraq War, just as it wasn’t Arthur’s fault that his father had decided to take in the orphan when her mother committed suicide.  Sometimes it was just easier to say they were brother-and-sister than it was to say that Morgana was his father’s charity case, and Arthur was the prick that never stopped reminding her of it.

 

None of that really mattered anyways, especially not when the lease had already been signed, and it was too late to be having second thoughts.  Morgana was finally getting around to unpacking her moving boxes, and Arthur had just finished clearing out the last of Lancelot’s old things.

 

“Arthur,” Morgana says, her voice reverberating through the house.   “Did you know your apartment doesn’t have a walk-in closet?”  It’s a very Morgana-like thing to say, to criticize his apartment the second she moves in, and Arthur finds himself already very annoyed at his new roommate.

 

“You’re a spoiled little brat,” he calls from the other room, which is more fact than it is a barbed remark.  His father might be Uther Pendragon, but hers was Gorlois Tintagel (as in the Duke-of-Cornwall Gorlois Tintagel), and that makes Morgana just as much of the gentry as his father is.

 

“And _you_ don’t have a proper closet,” she replies, her voice saturated with annoyance.  Arthur feels his fists clench, but he takes a deep breath, and lets himself relax.

 

“Want to go for sushi?”

 

The sushi turns out to be enjoyable, even by Morgana’s standards, and Arthur finds himself laughing alongside her when they see a poor customer choke theatrically on his meal and attempt to perform the Heimlich on himself.  It’s the kind of mean humor they both thrive on, one that no one else seems to share, and it doesn’t take long for the tension from before to dissipate.  

 

“So,” Arthur begins cautiously.  “I thought we might discuss apartment rules.”

 

Morgana wipes a corner of her mouth with a napkin.  “Alright.  Overnight visitors are okay.  We split groceries.  I pay for sixty percent of rent and you get a housekeeper.  Last night I think I saw a stray cat wander in.”

 

Despite himself, Arthur quirks a smile.  “Visitors at any time of the day are okay.  I’ll buy groceries and you pay for them, because I think we both know you don’t know how to cook.  Uther already pays for sixty-five percent of the rent, so you can pay for the housekeeper.  The cat is Merlin’s, and we’re cat-sitting for him.”

 

He looks up, and Morgana flashes him a rare smile, all sunshine and pearly whites.  “I think this is going to work out rather well.”

 

It takes them a couple of weeks to work out a routine, and to really get past all the awkwardness of living together again.  Arthur learns that boxers are a must when he goes to sleep, if not to avoid any awkwardly nude encounters, and Morgana figures out that Arthur _really_ doesn’t like to be awakened at 7am on Sundays by her kickboxing workout.  It’s altogether not so terrible, even if they do argue constantly, and Arthur threatens to kick her out at least once a week.  

 

It’s a sunny Saturday morning when Arthur decides to issue his weekly warning, and Morgana has just come back from her fencing classes.  She’s sprawled out on the couch, having stripped to a sports bra and spandex, breathing deeply from the exercise.  He tries to avert his eyes from her toned stomach, and the sharp edge of her hipbone poking out from under the thin material.

 

“How was your class? Finally manage to overthrow someone or have you not found anyone bad enough at the sport yet?”

 

“Oh, please.  You know I always win; in fact, I remember beating you on more than one occasion.”  Morgana flashes him a sly smile, and bolts up from off the sofa, as if ready to wage battle.

 

“Oh please,” he scoffs.  “Like _that_ would ever happen.  I trained with Olympic fencers, thank you very much.”

 

Her laugh fills the air, and he becomes very aware of the fact that she is starting to walk closer and closer to him.  He gets the sudden, ridiculous urge to run his fingers across her lips and to close the space between him as fast as possible.   _Sweat releases pheromones.  That’s all this is,_ he recites to himself, as if the basic biology fact explains away any possible feelings towards the very barely-clad woman in front of him. “I _know_ , which is why it’s embarrassing that you still lost.  Every. Single. Time.”  She punctuates her last words by jabbing her finger into his chest, until her face is directly under his, and all he would have to do is just tilt her chin up and…

 

She cocks her head upwards with that sneering smile of hers, and all Arthur can think is how if he were to kiss her right now, no one would be to blame but basic human biology, and who can fight nature, right?  Instead, he clears his throat and takes a good step backwards, releasing himself from the dangerous pheromones.  “A good roommate never lies, Morgana.  Continue that kind of nonsense, and I’ll throw you out of here by next week.”

 

He resigns himself to his room for the rest of the day, trying to get the thought of Morgana without a sports bra and spandex out of his head.

 

Arthur majored in business at Oxford, so he doesn’t have a great handle on how exactly biology works, but he’s pretty sure the effect of pheromones shouldn’t last longer than a week.  This piece of information is particularly troubling, because that means he might have an entirely new problem on his hands, one that would explain why his heart keeps beating so fast every time his roommate touches him.

 

There is only one real way Arthur knows how to deal with an issue like this, and it’s not exactly doctor-approved.  Seven nights in a row, for two weeks, he takes home a different girl from a bar, and they more often than not have black hair or green eyes or a combination of the two.  If he really thinks about it, it’s all kinds of sick, but Arthur is used to being told he might need to see a psychiatrist or two.  It’s only on girl number fourteen that Morgana finally confronts him, and only because it’s starting to become tedious to have to order Ubers for all of them by herself.

 

“Arthur,” Morgana starts off by pushing a waffle onto his plate, because she’s learned that fighting with Arthur goes easier if he has something to eat.  He takes a bite out of it, respectfully spits it out, then dumps it in the trash.   _Alright._

 

“Jesus, did you make that?”

 

“I was trying to be nice,” she says exasperatedly, crossing her arms over her chest.

 

“Leave the cooking to me next time,” he answers pityingly, turning his attention back to the newspaper next to him.  Just like that, Morgana feels very much like a tossed-aside housewife making breakfast for her absentee husband, which is a very specific feeling, and not one she would like to be feeling at all.

 

“Alright, listen up,” she yells, slamming her hand on the counter, and causing Arthur to jump slightly.  “You have brought a dozen girls home in the past weeks, and I have _tried_ to be a good roommate because it is so very clearly a miracle for you that this many girls would want to sleep with you.  But I am so tired of having to wake up and order cars for all your girls and having to listen to your bed creak constantly and having to eat my breakfast with a different girl everyday and...and…” She trails off, as Arthur stares at her delightedly with a smirk, which was so very the opposite of the expression she had wanted from him.  “What?”

 

“Nothing,” Arthur retorts, grabbing an apple from the fruit bowl and taking a bite.  “It’s okay to be jealous, Morgana.”  She’s staring at him, open-mouthed, and he takes a second to enjoy the sight of having finally rendered her speechless.  “I’m a good-looking man, and it’s natural to have these kinds of feelings and thoughts about me... I’m sure you can’t help yourself.”  She’s starting to regain control of her mouth again, and he can see she’s moving on to sputtering and waving her hands in the air as if she cannot believe these _outrageous remarks_ , so he decides to make his exit.  “See you later darling.  Don’t think about me too much.”  Arthur kisses her softly on the cheek, which is just a few centimeters from where he actually wants to kiss her, and ducks out of the kitchen before she throws a banana at the back of his head.

 

He laughs about the encounter for a couple of minutes, and then is promptly reminded of the fact that he couldn’t have been further from the truth.  Somehow teasing your roommate that she has an unrequited crush on you isn’t as much fun when you’re the one in love.  Arthur allows himself to sulk on the majority of the subway ride to work, before meeting his very new and very hot blonde secretary.  It takes him approximately twenty minutes to romance her, and then another twenty to make out with her in his office before he realizes that even sleeping with his secretary wouldn’t be enough of a thrill.  Arthur takes a second to wonder if maybe he really should seek help, but that would probably give his father too much satisfaction, so the right thing to do is probably to find even more deviant ways to get over Morgana.

 

Meanwhile, Morgana tries to get over the shock of Arthur’s ridiculous accusations and the problem of being one apple and a banana short, which is the real shame since that’s exactly what she was planning to eat for breakfast.  Breakfastless, she opts to order donuts to be delivered, because what’s the point of being rich if you can’t make good use of your credit card?  Once the donuts arrive, Morgana settles into a chair on the balcony, and munches on a chocolate donut as she mulls the morning over.  She works from home the majority of the time anyways, as the editor of an online newspaper site Uther owns, so she normally has plenty of time to overthink incidents like these to herself.  It’s not nearly the scathing words or the off-target remarks that annoys her-- she’s had a lifetime of those from Arthur.  It’s the kiss.  They’ve kissed on the cheek plenty of times to be sure, but those were all when they were kids and being introduced at social events, and that always required lots of cheek-kissing from everyone.  This kiss is different because now they’re in their twenties, and Morgana has started to correct people when they refer to them as siblings, and they no longer bathe together, and a million other things that all point to the fact that _something has changed between them._ Somehow she’s gone from being his sister to being his roommate to something new and different and possibly very twisted.  They’ve always lived in the grey areas anyways, bonded together by the secrets of what it really is like living under the thumb of the great Uther Pendragon, CEO of Pendragon Investments.  Somewhere underneath all the anger she has for his golden-boy image and pretentious antics, there is some degree of _feeling_ that eclipses everything else.  And now she’s not even sure what to define that feeling as, all because of that stupid, stupid kiss.  Morgana does what she always does when she doesn’t know what to do-- she hatches a plan.

 

He’s already in a sour mood when he gets back, which is mainly due to his father calling him to lecture him on banging his secretary, because apparently Uther’s spies are everywhere.  It also might have something to do with this whole Morgana situation, which is becoming unavoidable given that they live together.   _And just whose bright idea was that?_ Arthur thinks resentfully.  He opens the door, hoping to sneak away to his room, when he notices her standing in the middle of the room.

 

“Do anything fun at work? Like really, really fun? Like banging-the-secretary fun?” Morgana teases, and normally he would be already responding with a hostile retort, but he’s too distracted by something entirely different.  She has this dress on, except it’s less of a dress and more of saran-wrap, judging by the way it clings to her.  He doesn’t know too much about fashion, but Arthur makes a mental note to find out the designer so he can buy every single one of their dresses for her.

 

Morgana looks amused by his lack of silence.  “Uther called me the minute he found out; I mean _honestly_ , Arthur, have some class.”

 

“What are you wearing?”

 

“I had a date tonight.”

 

“With who?”  Arthur barely manages to keep the agitation out of his voice, the _why-not-me_ , but it still comes across as indignant.

 

“Doesn’t matter. Probably won’t see him again.”  Morgana wrinkles her nose as if she’s just been on the worst date ever, and not spending the past hour coming up with a way to seduce Arthur.  The nose-wrinkle coerces a smile out of Arthur, and Morgana has to stop herself from smiling back at him.

 

“So, what now?”

 

“Let’s play a game.”  Morgana drags out the game of Monopoly from behind her, and presents it to him, eyes-wide, like it’s not just a front for a very well-executed trap.  Monopoly is one of Arthur’s favorite games, mostly because it involves business and it’s one of the few games he actually has a chance of besting Morgana at.

 

Unfortunately for him, this round is not one of those rare times Morgana loses, and within an hour, she has him down to two deeds and a couple hundred dollars.  Arthur senses a defeat, but he’ll be damned if he’ll give in that easily.

 

“Come on Morgana.  Can’t you just give me one pass this time around?”  If it was any other girl, Arthur would just smile and run his hand up their leg, but Morgana isn’t just any other girl.  Unfortunately, the best tactic with her was to get down on your knees and beg, but Arthur’s not really the begging type.

 

Morgana pretends to consider it.  “You know I would love to, but I have to play by the rules.  I’m afraid that’s not possible, so it looks like if you land on one more hotel of mine, you’ll be officially bankrupt.”  Everything is going so perfectly according to plan; all she has left to do is to say her last lines, and she’ll know for sure what it is that lies between them.  She pauses.

 

“Unless you have something _else_ to offer me?”

 

Arthur meets her eyes, and something about the words sounds like they shouldn’t be coming from Morgana.  Her voice is warm and inviting and _sultry_ , which is a word he never thought he would be using when it came to her.  Her eyes don’t waver from his, and Arthur is debating whether to hurriedly throw in the towel and run to his room or to kiss the absolute shit out of her, when she speaks again.  There is a long, overwhelming silence between them, and Arthur wouldn’t admit it to anyone, but he’s terrified of either choice.

 

“ _Arthur._ ”  She doesn’t mean to.  She didn’t mean for the word to slip out at all, but there it is, his name breathy and desperate on her tongue.  Morgana is about to jump up and chalk the evening up to a huge mistake when she sees his mouth soften, and suddenly she’s not so regretful anymore.

 

His hand wraps around her hair, pulling her into him, as Arthur presses his lips to hers.  It feels like instinct, his other hand searching feverishly for her dress’ zipper, and the way her mouth kisses his neck like she’s been there before.  A sudden thought occurs to him, and he pulls away from her, leaving Morgana with a confused expression on her face.

 

“Morgana?”

 

“Yes?”  

 

“Best roommate _ever._ ”  And then she’s laughing and trying to push him off of her, but Arthur’s waited too damn long to be able to kiss her, and Morgana finds herself locking lips with Arthur Pendragon all over again.

**Author's Note:**

> I haven't written in a really long time, but I had this idea and it wouldn't let go of me, so I wrote this in like three hours so here ya go!


End file.
